


Matthew Lace

by 5eedless



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-04-28 18:03:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5eedless/pseuds/5eedless
Summary: Matthew Lace, a boy barely past the age of adulthood, is given a boost into a life he always wanted. However, he finds that such a life holds far more than just danger and excitement ... it holds horrors one should never have to bare. Welcome to the story of how a group was born of a man.





	1. The Founding of Matthew Lace

As the sky roared in a fashion that made children throughout the city of Los Angeles cower in their beds, the adult world attempted to bustle as if it were any other day only to find the force of weather to be too great. Cars lay in wreck every other block with ambulances struggling to keep tempo with the amount of emergency calls echoing from payphones and crying babes alike. This was a night of death, by death, for death.

Which made it all the more difficult for the young boy sitting in a diner with a cup of cold coffee, staring out at the rain to cope with his current situation. He wore a pair of black Adidas swishy pants and a poofy blue snow jacket to protect himself from the rain. His hair was black and messy, and his skin was lightly tanned, the trademark of a traditional LA surfer dude. His eyes were brown, yet unlike those of any male his age … cold, hard. They were the eyes of a man who hasn’t just seen death, but felt it throughout every pore of his body.

The seats nearest this man were purposefully empty, and he seemed to prefer it that way. Just as no one in the diner had any desire to be near him, he too had no desire to be anywhere near people. There were those who wondered why he was here alone, and some even approached to ask. This proved to be a fruitless gesture, as any attempt to strike a conversation with the boy was repaid with a deadpan stare and frigid silence. And so Matthew Lace, unknown to the world, was allowed to remain as solitary as an oyster surrounded by a school of dumb fish.

His solitude did not last nearly as long as he would have liked, however. There was one man who was not dissuaded by the gaze of death. One man who walked into the diner, closed his umbrella, waved off the approaching waitress with a smile and a shake of his head and marched right over to Matthew’s table without a shred of hesitation in his gait. Matthew was too busy staring out the window to notice, but probably still wouldn’t have believed even if he had been paying attention.

After all, Tony Stark isn’t a face one sees every day.

“Mind if I sit here?” asked the Iron Man, parking his rear-end across from Matthew without waiting for permission. The boy recoiled as his eyes jerked to find the intruder of what must have been an incredibly large personal bubble. “Oh sorry kid, did I scare ya? I have that effect sometimes.” Tony Stark waved his hand nonchalantly as he looked around the diner. “I don’t often visit dives like these. I’m more the five-star restaurant kinda guy myself, but now that I’m here it does have it’s own little charms, doesn’t it?”

“What do you want?” Matthew opened his mouth for what felt like the first time in days, though in reality it had been much less than that since he ran from home. 

Stark shrugged. “Just wanted to have a chat. How’s the coffee? People keep telling me it’s better at these places-”

“Cut the shit!” Matthew slammed his fist against the table, his face growing white as a sheet. Stark slowly sat back in his chair. Matthew seethed a few more moments, seized by a sudden irrational anger that had gripped him without warning. As it faded, Matthew’s eyes softened slightly. His hand still trembling, he uncurled his fingers and lowered them back into his lap. “... sorry.” Matthew’s gaze fell to his lap, where his hands now lay shaking. He clenched them both into fists once more to make the shaking stop, but to no avail. 

Tony Stark knew what this boy was feeling without having to ask. He’d experienced enough pain and terror in his own life that he’d often considered trying to give both feelings their own unit of measurement. For now, the boy in front of him looked somewhere in between ‘war veteran with PTSD’ and ‘crippled for life’. “You look like you’ve seen Hell, kid. Normally I’d fool around with ya more, but I’ll cut you a break.” Stark took out his wallet and shuffled through it before pulling out a few pictures and tossing them onto the table. Matthew recognized those pictures. He knew them all too well …

The first was that of a Caucasian male and a Filipino woman, walking with their overshirts on through an overcast Chinatown. The second was that of a young boy who looked much like Matthew, but had pale skin and red eyes, and whose hair was clearly not naturally black. The third was a picture of a bedspread covered in blood and viscera. Matthew refused to look at that one.

“... You know who these people are. You know what happened, the whole shebang.” Tony Stark wasn’t asking Matthew, he was telling him. There was only one person in Los Angeles who knew what these pictures meant, and that person was about to crash with the weight of it all. Stark leaned onto the table and looked Matthew in the eye.

“I don’t think that any of this is your fault. But you’re the only witness to a kind of crime I’ve never seen before, and I need you to come clean. What happened?” Stark’s gaze showed that he knew what he was asking. This boy had just gone through a level of hell most people didn’t even know existed, and now Stark was asking him to relive the tale moment to moment. But he needed to know what had happened. No matter how much it hurt Matthew, Stark needed to know.

Matthew took a deep breath.

“It all started three months ago. The school year had just began, and as usual I didn’t really have anyone to talk to. Most of my buddies only come to LA during the summer and since they have their careers lined up, they have to study for them, so they don’t have enough free time to call. I know this doesn’t sound important, but it’s the main reason why I started talking to him; one of the new kids at my school that year, someone nobody else really wanted to talk to. His name was Cruz Schild.

Cruz struck me as the intellectual type when I first saw him, and I was right. He aced every class, and would sometimes even get the teachers stumped with the questions he asked. He got pretty popular pretty quick thanks to that and him being albino - you know, people think that kinda special diversity is hot. He turned a lot of people down, though. Most everybody thought he was a snob, but I figured he just didn’t have the time for friends.

Then one day, he comes up to me during lunch and asks to sit with me. I don’t really have a reason to say no, so he takes a seat. We start having lunch together pretty much everyday after that, and it turns out he was actually a lot more complex than I thought he was. He had always strived to be the best at every subject, but he was disappointed that other people at his grade level didn’t think as well as the people below it. As Cruz put it, ‘they’re so busy trying to be smart that they end up looking like idiots.’

I’m rambling, sorry. So Cruz and I became pretty good friends after that, and pretty soon we realized that we both live in pretty much the same area. So we started walking home together, going to each other’s houses to watch shows and play games. It was the first time I can remember making such a great friend so fast … then, a couple days ago, Cruz and I were walking home, talking about Wakanda …

I was complaining about how everybody blamed the Avengers for what happened. ‘There were people on the ground, too! It’s not like everything would’ve been hunky-dory if they had done nothing at all!’ I’ve always been a fan of you guys, so I got pretty heated talking about it. Eventually, I said something like ‘I wish I could do the things they do!’ … That’s when Cruz told me that it actually was possible.

Cruz told me his secret, something he said he’d never told anyone but his parents before. He told me that he had an ability, something he was born with and couldn’t really explain. He told me that he could give people powers. Now, I laughed in his face about it, right? I thought it was a bad joke. But then he looked at me with a cocky little smirk and said ‘I can prove it to you, if you want …’

I mean, who wouldn’t take him up on that? The guy was telling me he could make ME a superhero - I wasn’t about to just pass that up! Even if I thought it was a joke … we went to an alley near his apartment complex and I expected him to start doing some crazy shit. You know, carving symbols and speaking mumbo jumbo, something weird. Instead, all he did was hold my hands for a few seconds, then let go and said “we’re done”. I started laughing at him, saying that I knew it was a joke. And then I saw the other me laughing.

That was … the best day of my life. I spent the whole day testing the limits of the powers Cruz gave me, and thanking him over and over again for this chance. Cruz told me he’d come by to talk to me more about this power the next day, and see what we could do about cleaning up Los Angeles … all I could think about was becoming a hero … I couldn’t have known what was going to happen …”  
Matthew’s voice trailed off as tears filled his eyes. He couldn’t go on anymore. None of them could. Who would be able to talk about that? How could he adequately describe the feeling of waking up that next morning, lying on the floor for some reason, feeling raw meat under and around him, looking at himself and seeing nothing but red … looking at his bed and seeing the flayed skin of his old body lying upon it.

Stark listened to the kid’s story without speaking. He loved his snark, but knew that this was most certainly not the time for it. Jesus Christ, what a mess … if he hadn’t been in LA for a business meeting, he’d never have even known any of this was going on. This kid would have been left to rot, without any place to go. His parents, the two people featured in the first of his three photos, probably think he’s dead. And, as much as Tony hated to admit it, that was the way it should stay for the time being.

“Look, kid, I’m sorry I made you relive that. I’m sorry you got dragged into something you don’t understand. I don’t understand it, either. So how about we make a deal?” Matthew’s head rose as his eyes, now filled with tears, met Stark’s. “Why don’t I bring you back to Stark Tower? You’ll get comfortable living arrangements, and we can try to find out exactly what this thing is and if there’s any way to fix it-” 

“NO!” Matthew’s voice cracked as he screamed the word, spit flying in Tony Stark’s face. “HELL NO! I’m gonna find the asshole who did this to me and I’m going to BREAK HIS NECK!”

Stark shifted in his seat, folding his hands upon the table. “And then what? You’re just gonna ~waltz back into mommy’s house~ like nothing ever happened?” Matthew’s eyes, first so full of rage, slowly sunk back into comprehension and fear. “Killing this Cruz guy isn’t gonna turn you back, and it’s not gonna do your parents any favors. If you come back with me, I can help you control this thing. I can help you live a normal life.”

Matthew’s tears continued to stream down his face. “A normal life? I … will never have a normal life … again …” 

Stark leaned even further, his hand outstretched to touch Matthew’s shoulder. “You don’t know tha-”

“I CAN HEAR ME!” Matthew screamed once more, his throat struggling to handle the strain of his bawling and yelling mixed together. “The whole time we’ve been talking … I’ve been hearing myself in my head … don’t say anything, tell him everything, run away, go with him, survive and kill yourself - all AT THE SAME TIME!!”

Matthew held his head in his hands, crying onto the table. The people inside the diner stared at him and Stark with mixed amazement and fear - several patrons had already left. Stark sighed and pressed a button on his watch, holding it up to his mouth. “Vis, come in. I’m gonna need someone to move him.”

Not a second later, a man with red skin wearing a black tuxedo appeared straight out of the wall nearest the table. His eyes fell on Matthew with soft pity. He had, of course, heard the entire conversation … he could not imagine the torment the poor boy must be going through. Vision approached and patted him on the shoulder. “Come now, Matthew. Cry all you must, but we must be going. Stark Tower is the only place you’ll be safe … and it’s the only place that we can take you to make everyone here - your parents, the whole of Los Angeles - safe.”

Slowly but surely, Matthew’s tears began to subside. It was true, he could feel every ‘him’ trying their very best to leave - and he had no idea just how many of them he had. If it was too many, there was no way he could track them all. The city itself could be put at risk because of him. He stood out of his chair, shaking, only to take one step forward and fall to the ground.

Vision bent over and offered Matthew his arm. “Lean on my shoulder. Come on, that’s it.” Matthew stood up and, guided by two men of valor, was escorted out of the diner. Outside, he would find a chopper waiting to bring him to Stark Tower. As Matthew left, he knew that he would never return. For when the day finally came that he would see Los Angeles once more … he would no longer be the same person.


	2. The Discovery of Matthew Lace

It had been 17 hours since he had been brought to Stark Tower, and Matthew was still not quite used to the massive amount of incredible technology surrounding him. Nor was he used to the idea that he was currently over a thousand feet above the ground, but he tried not to think about that. Matthew hated heights, and could not fathom why anyone would ever spend so much money on what was bound to one day become the next 9/11.

 

Now, the things  _ inside _ that massive death tower were far more reasonable. The giant tube made of bulletproof glass that Matthew currently resided in was very interesting. It only had one entry and exit point, which lay beneath the floor that he was currently sitting on, which was just as dense as the glass. The ceiling was the only location that looked somewhat penetrable, as it had several small holes in it to allow air to flow freely to and from the tube itself.

 

The idea of being inside a glass tube as if he were the subject of a mad scientist’s experiments really didn’t bother him as much as the story he was on did. He knew he was a test subject, it was why he had come in the first place. And he also knew that Tony Stark was a God damned genius with a decent moral compass, so he wouldn’t do anything stupid or morally questionable to Matthew.

 

So, feeling perfectly safe inside his own little tube, Matthew continued to examine the many doo-dads inside Stark’s personal study. There were monitors mounted on just about every spot of wall and built into machines that littered the room for different purposes - some obvious, like the one that was there to monitor Matthew’s vitals and brain activity (the wireless pads on his veins and temples were a constant reminder of it) and some not so obvious, like the weird thing in the corner that looked like a refrigerator had a monitor and a massive amount of buttons and dials thrown onto it. Lots of people dreamed of going to Stark Tower, so Matthew decided to make the most of his opportunity to burn every piece of it into his memory.

 

Of course, that wasn’t the only reason he paid so much attention to every little detail. As he sat there, coming up with different speculations on what the dials and knobs did, the gears in Matthew’s head refused to stop turning. He could hear himself, he expected he always would from this day forward, many different versions of himself coming up with more ideas and thoughts of which metal thing performed what function than he could have been able to come up with on his own. He didn’t bother trying to decipher which one was ‘his’. ‘He’ knew better by now.

 

The problem with having so many voices in his head was that he wasn’t able to distract himself as well for as long as he usually could. Before the accident, ‘Matthew Lace’ would have been able to think of as many possible functions for a single piece of machinery in a minute as the Matthews thought of in ten seconds. After all, with a crowd of people just like him inside his own head, Matthew was able to examine every possibility that he’d have come to eventually in a much shorter time span, because each of them thought of a different one of the many ideas that the original would have eventually posed down the line on his own. It would be very hard for Matthew to try to explain this to Mr. Stark …

 

_ It’s like burning 5 torches at once instead of keeping one lit until it burns out then sparking another _

_ It’s like burning a torch at both ends _

_ It’s like riding a bike instead of walking _

_ It’s like there’s a committee in your head _

 

Just as the other four of Matthews gave him their insight, Tony Stark walked into the room. He was dressed far more comfortably than he was in the diner, now wearing a red bed robe with fuzzy pink slippers on his feet … it was not a look Matthew had ever expected to see from him. Once again, Stark was accompanied by Vision, still wearing an assortment of black and white, although today it was a pair of sweatpants with a grey long-sleeved shirt. Matthew had been woken up to a similar outfit right beside where he lay in the tube, minus the long sleeves.

 

Following Vision was none other than Black Widow herself, wearing jeans and a red t-shirt. Matthew had often had fantasies of her that he’d never want to admit to anyone, but this image of her was a little harder to deal with after the accident. She was already attractive in her black latex jacket, seeing her in casual wear made the other four Matthews go crazy. Unlike him, they didn’t have to worry about hiding their emotions. They were just in his head, after all.

 

“How’ve you been? You sleep well?” Asked Stark while pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Sorry we couldn’t get any blankets or pillows in with you. You were already sleeping like a baby when we got here and I don’t expect you to have to be in there longer than the day.” Matthew nodded, having grown accustomed to the arrangements already. 

 

“I’ve slept on the floor a bunch of times. Yours is actually more comfortable than most.”

 

Widow was the one who posed the obvious question: “Why did you sleep on the floor?” 

 

“Because there weren’t enough beds.” Matthew realized immediately that this was a little too simple, so he elaborated. “My summer buddies and I would have big blowout parties sometimes. I always volunteered to sleep on the floor so we wouldn’t have to fight over who got the beds and couches.”

 

“Classic high school life!” Stark walked over and sat in a comfortable armchair set up right in front of the tube. “I was a jumpy sleeper, myself. Always pushed the owner of the house out of their beds if I had to.” 

 

“You, jumpy?” Widow gave Stark a coy smile, to which the latter rose one eyebrow and shrugged. “Who’d have thought? So anyway, it’s nice to meet you Matthew. I’m Natasha.” 

 

“I know. Nice to meet you. Big fan.” Having Black Widow smile at him was  **not** something Matthew could easily handle at this exact moment.

 

Stark took the reins from there. “So now I know how you slept, but how are you feelin’ kid? Had time to think?” Matthew nodded. 

 

“I’ve figured out a lot of things. Been up a couple hours with myself.” 

 

“With ‘yourself?’” Stark leaned forward. “How do you mean?” Matthew shuffled a little in his cross-legged seat on the floor, the better to articulate himself properly.

 

“It’s like … like there are 4 other voices in my head, and they’re all me.” Stark didn’t seem quite satisfied with that, so Matthew continued. “Let me give you an example - that machine over there, the one that’s like a cube with a bunch of dials and knobs? I don’t know what it does, but I was able to come up with a ton more theories in a lot less time than I would have before, because while *I* was thinking through one possibility, one of the ‘other’ Matthews was thinking through another, and a third one was thinking through its’ own idea, and so on. I would have thought of them all anyway, but it would have taken a lot more time and effort and I might have even gotten burned out doing it. But since I divided the work between myself, it was easier.”

 

The Avengers all looked at each other with some degree of worry on their faces. Black Widow in particular seemed afraid, while Vision was the closest to confusion. Widow inched forward in her chair. “When do you hear these voices, Matthew?” Matthew’s brow furrowed, not really sure that he understood. 

 

“All the time …” As Widow leaned back and shot Stark an even more worried look, Matthew mentally kicked himself. “But it’s not like they aren’t real or anything! I mean, look-” Matthew stood up, closed his eyes, and four more bodies identical to him and wearing the same clothes all slid seamlessly out of his body. Widow jumped in her seat while Tony slowly lowered his mug to the end table beside his chair. Vision’s confusion was quickly replaced with amazement.

 

“So that’s how it happens … I was curious, but didn’t know if you were comfortable doing it.” Stark appeared fascinated by the five Matthews standing inside the tube. “So they don’t shut up, inside or out?” Two of the Matthews chuckled, while the rest smirked. They all said in unison: 

 

“Mr. Stark, I couldn’t shut up if I wanted to.” The two that chuckled finished with “which I don’t.” at which point the other three showed great disappointment in themselves for not doing the same.

 

“You’re much more … comfortable with this than I thought you’d be.” Vision finally spoke for the first time that day. The Matthews shrugged. 

 

“I guess it’s because now, I don’t have to crowd every voice in the same head.” Five uncanny replicas of the same voice echoed out from the glass tube, and Widow groaned as she held her head in protest.

 

“Please, could one of you talk unless the others have a problem with what that one says? It’s a little too loud with all of you at once.”

 

The Matthews all looked ashamed, said “yes ma’am.” quickly clapped their hands to their mouths and turned around to quickly discuss who would speak. They resolved to have the ‘first’ Matthew be their spokesman. Stark continued. 

 

“Well kid, that helps answer a lot of questions. That said, there are a few other tests I should run just to confirm some of my suspicions. But first things’ first - you hungry?”

 

Matthew enjoyed a day of completely undivided attention from the Avengers - complemented by some exquisite cuisine provided by Stark Tower staff - as Tony Stark examined his physical attributes while Black Widow poked around his psychological ones. Strangely, Vision remained silent. Matthew began to wonder why he was here in the first place; Stark and Widow were experts in the body and mind, but Vision seemed to have nothing to hold his interest, no real reason to be there. He wasn’t a scientist or a psychologist, he was just a … a guy, who happened to be made of metal.

 

Yet despite him seeming to have no logical reason to be, Vision very clearly was interested in everything that was going on. He watched intently as Matthew performed tests and answered questions, both as one body and as several. He showed relief at the parts of Matthew that were still normal, and seemed impressed by the qualities that had been enhanced. He even appeared sympathetic to the horrors Matthew had to endure.

 

“Well, that about covers it. We at least know you’re not gonna trash the tower. I’ll go down and get you out of that tube, but first, do you have any questions? Comments? Concerns?” Stark finished off whatever he was writing on his clipboard sometime around 4 pm, at least six hours after they had started. 

 

“Actually, I’m confused about one thing: why are you here?” Matthew addressed Vision directly, taking everyone slightly by surprise. “You haven’t said a word to me since breakfast. You haven’t asked me to do anything, answer any questions. You’ve just been standing there and watching. I don’t mean to be rude, I just … I figured you’d be saving a city or something.” Matthew knew that what he was saying probably sounded offensive, and that made him hesitate ever so slightly. He was just as impressed by Vision as he was by Stark and Ms. Romanova, perhaps even a little more so. But he just didn’t seem suited to learning the ins-and-outs of a teenager on a literal power trip.

 

“We were, uh … going to wait until later to tell you that.” Stark looked from Vision to Matthew, then back to Vision. Ms. Romanova kept her eyes on Matthew, her smile still genuine as she spoke, but somehow not reaching her eyes. 

 

“We thought that it would be best if you don’t go outside Stark Tower for a little while. We don’t know who might be after you, and there might be some other abilities you haven’t discovered yet.”

 

Matthew rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I get that. But why is he-” 

 

“Well, we’re not just gonna let you run around the tower all the time. You need somebody to watch you, to train you.” Stark looked at Matthew with slight irritation in his voice. “After all, you’re still just an 18 year-old kid, and you only just got this new set of heads. And there’s only one guy in this whole world who’s as one-of-a-kind as you are.”

 

“That’s enough, Stark.” Vision walked over beside the tube, his gait somewhat stiff but his voice confident. He stopped in front of the tube and turned to look at Matthew. Matthew could see the sorrow in those eyes. The sympathy. He knew what it was like to be given life by someone you hate. There were other things Matthew felt that Vision did not know, would probably never know. But he knew that much, and it was enough to empathize with.

 

“I hope you can forgive me for not telling you sooner. Please understand that this is only a safety precaution.” Matthew looked around at the Avengers, first Stark with his grumpy stare, then Ms. Romanova with her stoic gaze. Then finally his eyes landed once again on Vision. 

 

“So, you’re telling me that you’ll be watching over me? Keeping me under guard?”

 

“... training me?”

 

Matthew felt his stomach do a backflip as the other four voices in his head cheered with glee.


End file.
